Big Fight Near The Cool Pools

LET'S START WITH things we're pretty sure are true. First, there will be 20 million more people in the state of California by the year 2025. Second, the University of California will build a spanking new campus somewhere in the Central Valley, north of Bakersfield and south of Stockton.

Let's move down one level of probability to something that is probably true although less certain than the above: The new UC campus and its surrounding "new town" will be on a parcel of land now known as the Virginia Smith Trust, 7,000 acres of rolling grassland northeast of Merced.

Already there is an office in a shopping center with "UC Merced" emblazoned on the door. There is a contest to name the mascot -- the Fighting Farmers? The Rasslin' Ranchers? The Endangered Species? There are dreamy architectural renderings of the parklike campus, the Parisian-style outdoor cafes, the low-rise dorms.

Out on the land, however, all is quiet. Not a spade of earth has been turned. There are problems with the site. There is vigorous faculty opposition. Environmental groups are worried. Impact statements are required. Building any large project in California in this decade is a major undertaking; this promises to be more major than most.

It should be noted that the city of Merced, speaking through its elected representatives, is enthusiastic about the project. When it won the contest for the new campus, beating out hated big brother Fresno, there was line dancing at the Chamber of Commerce. Prestige, jobs, tax base, an influx of talented people, better movie theaters, better coffee -- what's not to like?

It should also be noted that, as is common in many of these disputes, most of the principal antagonists do not live in Merced. It's another battleground in an endless war over land-use policy, fought parcel by parcel and project by project. The UC people are imports; most them are not even planning to stay. With a few notable exceptions, the environmentalists live in the Bay Area; ditto the vocally opposed faculty members.

And, of course, so does the designated representative of The San Francisco Chronicle, down for the day to look into the situation. I AM STANDING at the edge of La Paloma road, at the very northeast corner of the UC Merced site. A botanist named John Vollmar waves his hand toward the horizon. "I think of this as wilderness," he says. "For the Central Valley, this is untouched."

"Never been logged, never been farmed?" I ask.

"Exactly. Of course, these grasses are not native; they're from Europe or Asia mostly. Wild oats, wild barley, like that. And of course it's been grazed. But still . . . look at it."

I do. It's your basic amber waves of grain, with the purple mountains majesty rising in the background. We are just about due west of Yosemite Valley. In the spring, after the tule fog has gone and before the blazing summer takes over, it's a lot like paradise.

"You can just see a pool there," says Vollmar. IT IS THE vernal pools that form the crux of the problem. They are rare geologic formations; they require both a Mediterranean climate -- wet winters, dry summers -- and undeveloped hardpan soil. The pools fill with water in the fall and dry up in the spring. The two largest concentrations of vernal pools in the world are in the Central Valley and in Chile.

There are plants and animals that have adapted to this unique environment. Unlike the grasses that surround the pools, the plants and animals are natives. Because humans have already destroyed a substantial number of the pools, many of these plants and animals are listed as endangered or threatened.

There are hundreds of vernal pools in the 7,000 acres of the Smith Trust. The obvious question is: If the vernal pools are ecologically important and filled with endangered plants and animals, how can the university get away with paving them over? More tomorrow.